Rebirth
by Ernie628
Summary: With ‘Tiny Dancer’ playing softly in the background and his arms wrapped around me, I felt reborn, renewed, cleansed…


Rebirth 

_Summary:_ With 'Tiny Dancer' playing softly in the background and his arms wrapped around me, I felt reborn, renewed, cleansed…

_Author's Note:_ It's been so long since I finished anything, but I just haven't had the motivation or the time- college is rough, let me tell you! I don't know how I feel about this one, but I just wanted to get something done and out of my WIP folder! I hope you like it, reviews are most appreciated!

_Disclaimer:_ If they were mine, Fez and Jackie wouldn't have even been a possibility…

* * *

I can happily say that it all worked out for the best. My relationship with Fez was what I always needed...well, it was exactly what I needed to see that it wasn't what I always wanted.

* * *

We were happy for the first six months of 1980. Fez treated me like a princess and I happily accepted his loving attention. There were things I had to overlook, like his love of candy and porn…and Kelso. But, those were small and insignificant. He loved me, he wanted me, and he would never hurt me, so that was enough.

The first time we had sex was on Valentine's Day. How cliché right? I came home to our apartment to find flowers and candles all over the place. Music drifted into the living room from Fez's room, where I found Fez laying in bed, surrounded by rose petals. He smiled when he saw me, leaping up to take my coat and purse. He had a red negligee for me to wear and as I put it on in my own bedroom, I tried not to think of the absurdity of the whole situation. I hadn't been ready to sleep with Fez, it had been two months and I wanted to go slow, but he kept pushing, and now, it was like I couldn't say no to this romantic gesture.

The sex was average, a little better than my first time with Michael, but…nothing compared to that first time with Steven. I tried not to compare Fez to the two men, but I couldn't help it. I spent the whole time wishing it was over. I just felt so…put on the spot. It was like, because my fantasies of a truly romantic 'first time' were coming true, the sex had to be phenomenal, and trust me, it was far from it. When it was over and Fez was fast asleep, I stood in the shower and tried not to cry. I felt strangely empty, but I had no idea why. I decided it was PMS messing me all up. Fez was perfect and I was just being bitchy, next time would be better.

* * *

In the coming months, I began to feel like Fez was trying to prove that he loved me, prove that I should stay with him. It was always with expensive presents and material things, always with extreme gestures. Truth is, I began to wish he would stop. As crazy as it sounds, especially coming from the queen of materialism, I didn't need presents or public displays, I needed the small things.

With Steven, all he'd give me were small things. He wouldn't usually go for big public displays of affection, like screaming his love from the top of the water tower, but he always let me sit on his lap, no matter where we were. He wasn't good at giving presents, but when he did, they were always from the heart. He gave me his favorite shirt for my birthday, and when things were bad between us, I would wear that shirt to bed, pretending I could still smell him in the fabric. He gave me a bouquet of plastic flowers one day, smirking as he told me that they'd never die like real ones, so I should be glad to have such a thoughtful boyfriend. For dates, we'd usually go to the Hub or to a movie, maybe out to the reservoir; it was never anything special, but just being with him, doing whatever was enough.

With Steven, it was always the little moments that I remembered. The first time we had sex was on his cot, in his little room with only the moonlight shining. The radio was on and I remember 'Tiny Dancer' played toward the end. He knew I was nervous, but he made me feel so comfortable and safe. To this day, I can still see his eyes as he moved inside me that first time, so full of something that I can only now say was love. He would hardly ever say it to me, but I knew, always when he looked into my eyes, that it was love.

My favorite memory was when he'd asked Mrs. Forman to make us a picnic basket and he'd surprised me on our anniversary by taking me to The Point for a picnic at dusk. We'd ate sandwiches and just talked. When 'Tiny Dancer' came on the radio, he'd given me a look, and shyly asked if I wanted to dance. I was surprised, but he said something along the lines of, "I knew you'd want to…seeing as how it's the song…uh, our song, I guess." I'd never loved him more at that moment. I told him to forget dancing and pulled him down onto the blanket and we'd made love under the stars.

* * *

It was 'Tiny Dancer' that led to the destruction of my relationship with Fez. They'd played it at a club in Kenosha, one that we all went to as a last hurrah before Eric and Donna went off to UW together. As I sipped on my martini, I scanned the crowd. Out of habit, my eyes searched for Steven in the mess of people. It was like time stopped for a few moments as our eyes met. I found myself wanting to know if he'd been just as lost as me for the past year. Somehow, that damn song, our song, made everything that had gone wrong disappear, and all I could see was all that had been right about us.

I didn't see Fez or Steven's ditsy blonde date, so I made my way to him. He didn't protest when I'd slid my hand into his. We wordlessly began to dance, my arms happily tangling around him, our bodies moving in rhythm.

As the song played on, I felt an ache in my chest so intense I started to cry, my tears wetting his dress shirt. How had we forgotten everything between us so quickly? I loved this man, I would always love this man, no matter what happened between us, he was it, the missing piece.

I looked up, his shades were off, and his eyes were so blue. He was looking at me with this intensity that I couldn't even begin to explain. He didn't look away, just asked if I wanted to get out of there. I nodded, brushing at my tears. He held my hand the whole time as we weaved through the crowd, his thumb making soft circles against my palm.

I can't even begin to explain the importance of that night. We left the club and drove around for hours, just talking and talking. Steven was more open and honest than ever. After years of trying, he finally let me inside, there were no more barriers between us.

* * *

We did nothing more that night than just kiss, as I was still technically with Fez, but it was the most perfect night of my life.

The next day, Steven broke it off with the blond bimbo he'd been sort of seeing and I broke up with Fez. I told him the truth, and for the first time that year, I was totally honest with him. I tearfully told him he was a great friend, that we would always be friends, but I didn't love him the way a girlfriend should, the way he deserved. He was the perfect gentleman, letting me go without protest. He said he always knew Hyde and I would work it out eventually.

That night, I made love to Steven for the first time in well over a year. With 'Tiny Dancer' playing softly in the background and his arms wrapped around me, I felt reborn, renewed, cleansed. Our past sins were forgiven, we had another chance to make this right, I knew that was the beginning of forever.

* * *

I'm happy to say it's been years since that night, and we've managed to make our crazy, strange, messed-up, difficult, and utterly perfect relationship work amazingly well. We got married a year after we got back together, moved into our own little house, got a dog, found great jobs, and had three beautiful children. Tonight, as Steven and I, along with the rest of the basement gang celebrate the end of the 80's and the birth of the 90's, I can only hope things keep getting better. 


End file.
